Ten Percent
by notjustaflower
Summary: Oneshot. "Freddie's room was white. It smelled of bleach. Nothing about it said anyone would be living there. Maybe dying there." Inspired by a scene from CSI:NewYork. T for swearing.


_Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except the string of words on the page. Er, screen. _

They were in the Groovy Smoothie when it happened. Freddie was at the counter, ordering drinks. Sam and Carly were holding the table. All of a sudden, everyone jumped as a glass-shattering scream accompanied the front window falling to pieces. But it wasn't the scream that had cracked the glass. No. It was a bullet. And once the glass was no longer in the way, the bullets began to fly again, only this time without a barrier. The world stopped as everyone dove to the ground, screaming and throwing their hands over their heads in an attempt to stay out of the way.

Samantha Puckett knew what to do in situations like this. She counted. Two full minutes, and eighteen shots fired. Carly had already called 911. Once Sam was confident the fire was over, she slowly rose and looked out the window. Nothing but the cool Seattle night was in view. Outside, there was nothing to even suggest the damage that had been done. She gave a shaky 'okay' so that everyone else could get up. And then the world came back to her. Suddenly, she was surrounded by noise, people looking after loved ones, and those who were hurt. Yes, many had been hurt. She raised her hand to her face, and in astonishment found that she was bleeding. She hadn't even felt it.

She looked to Carly, and saw, to her immense relief, that her best friend was not hurt. Albeit, a little shaken, but nothing serious. She then sought her other friend. He had been in line. But when she looked toward the counter, her view was obscured by a large crowd. She couldn't see him. She tried to look around the gaggle of people, and even looked through them, to see if Freddie was among them, but there was no sign. She turned and surveyed the rest of the place, perhaps he had moved during the incident. Nothing.

There was another group of people, though, surrounding the woman who had screamed. Her eyes were closed. She wasn't moving. Abruptly, Sam felt sick. Surely, she wasn't… dead? She had little time to ponder this, though. A man in the first group of people by the counter was shouting for an ambulance. Something about a boy. Horror crept through Sam's veins as the realization hit her, and she found herself hurdling across the restaurant and through the crowd. And there he was. Freddie was lying on the floor groaning, surrounded by a pool of blood.

XxX

Freddie Benson had always been a cautious person, never doing anything without checking for the all-clear to make certain that whatever he did was safe. But that night, his vigilance didn't save him from the quick _Pop Pop Pop_ of the gun outside. The moment after the woman screamed, he felt an intense burning in his side. He fell to the floor, facing the ceiling, struggling to catch his breath. The pain didn't stop, and he thought to himself that he must be dying. Certainly, a pain so intense could not be survived. And even though he was overly careful, for the first time in a long time, he was afraid.

The bullets eventually ceased, and a crowd gathered around him, calling 911, or pressing into his side in a weak attempt to stop the steady flow of blood. A few were crying. He was losing consciousness. Fading in and out, he lazily wondered if death was really this easy. While he was in the dark, he felt nothing. Heard nothing. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. So, he gave into the urge and let the blackness swallow him whole.

Soon, or maybe not soon at all, he heard voices floating around him. All at once, he was acutely aware of a dull aching in he side, and a subtle motion as if he were in a car. He remembered that he had eyes, so he opened them and saw two men in white suits working over him, in a panic. Before he was consciously aware of it, his mouth opened and questions were tumbling out of his mouth. _Where am I? What's going on? Am I still alive?_

"Just hang on, kid. We'll be at the hospital in a few minutes." The man took a needle, and Freddie would have gasped at the pinch in his arm, but he was already falling back to the familiar nothingness.

XxX

The waiting room in the hospital was cold in more ways than one. Goosebumps were raised on the arms of all those present, but the happy colors that decorated the room had the opposite of the intended effect- a cold reminder of the happiness that had just left them, the happiness that may never come back. Looking at the minty green walls, and the icy blue chairs that were way too uncomfortable, Sam wanted nothing more than to be sick.

Freddie was in surgery. He might not make it.

The worst part was, though, she never got the chance to tell him how she felt.

Mrs. Benson was in the corner. She had come in sobbing two hours ago, hysterical over her son. But when the doctors told her that she couldn't see him, her face became impassive- almost empty of emotion, and she went to sit down. Hadn't said a word since.

Carly was next to Spencer, asleep in one of the plastic chairs, the black tear stains still coating her cheeks. And Spencer himself was messing with his phone, probably still looking up those depressing statistics.

Sam couldn't sit. She paced back and forth and back again until she could no longer take the wait. She left the room, and walked straight into a man wearing scrubs.

"Are you a doctor?" she asked. Maybe this man would have information about Freddie.

He looked down at her, nodded, and then walked into the waiting room, Sam right on his heels.

"Family of Freddie Benson?" Half of the room stood and Sam held her breath.

Mrs. Benson sprang up and was in front of the doctor immediately. "My son? He's okay?"

Her voice retained the strained over-protectiveness that made her crazy.

The doctor glanced down at his clipboard. "Freddie is stable. You may see him now, but you'll have to wait for the doctors to finish up their testing before you can talk to him."

XxX

Freddie's room was white. It smelled of bleach. Nothing about it said anyone would be living there. Maybe dying there.

Freddie had no idea what was going on. He had just woken up, and no longer felt pain. No longer felt much, but he didn't question it. Instead, he questioned the fact that he was alone. Surely, there would be someone waiting for him to wake up. He glanced toward the side of his bed, and saw the call button. He pressed it. Waited.

Just as he was about to press it again, four people walked into the room. Two of them were obviously nurses, as they both went right to the IV and adjacent machines. The other two though, both looked like doctors, though Freddie couldn't imagine why he'd need more than one.

The older one spoke. "Do you know your name?"

Of course he did. "My name is Freddie Benson."

Another pointless question. "Where do you live?"

Another pointless answer. "Bushwell plaza. Apartment 8-D."

The last question, though, brought him up short. "Do you know why you're here?"

Something… about a smoothie? All he truthfully remembered for sure was an intense pain in his side, and thinking that he was dying. He shook his head.

The doctors walked toward him a little, and he saw four people in the doorway. His mom. Carly & Spencer. Sam.

He gave them a questioning look, but Sam just shook her head, telling him that talking was to be saved for later.

"Freddie?" The other doctor-the one who had been silent till now- spoke.

"Yeah?"

"My name is Dr. Vaughn. Can you answer a few questions for me?"

Hadn't he already done this? "Sure." He agreed with a sigh.

Dr. Vaughn stepped up to the foot of Freddie's bed. He reached out and took Freddie's big toe between his thumb and forefinger. "Can you feel that?"

Freddie couldn't speak. Could barely think straight. He could see that Vaughn was touching him, but he could feel nothing. He shook his head.

XxX

Sam watched horror stricken, as the doctor moved up the length of Freddie's legs. He felt nothing below his waist.

Sam thought she might be sick. She knew what suddenly being paralyzed could do to people. Her uncle had been in a car crash when she was seven, and lost all sensation in the same places Freddie had. Her uncle slipped into depression, and that led to the liquor that quickly depleted his funds. Two weeks after he was forced to give up the drinking, Sam's uncle was found in his apartment after swallowing an entire bottle of aspirin. They couldn't save him.

But, the more the doctor talked, Sam felt herself become more determined to help Freddie in any way she could. Whatever it took, she would do it.

Freddie's face looked indifferent. He never said a word, not even after all the doctors left.

Hours later, after Carly and Spencer had left, and Mrs. Benson was taking a shower in one of the Hospital's bathrooms, Sam sat with Freddie alone. He still hadn't spoken.

"Freddie?" She sent out tentatively.

He looked at her.

"Are you… okay?"

He only raised his eyebrows as if to say _What do you think?_

"Freddie!"She shouted at him, while he could only stare. "Say something, dammit!

He said nothing.

She could feel the tears welling up, frustration and anger getting the best of her after the long and stressful day. She could feel the adrenaline pumping in her veins, and could no longer control her actions. Of its own volition, her hand flew out and slapped Freddie across the face. When he didn't react, the only other thing she could think to do was kiss him. So that's what she did, if not to silently confess her feelings, then at least to shock him into a response

When she pulled back, she was met with a blank stare.

Her voice was shaking when she said, "Well then. I guess I'll see you around." She then left the hospital and held her composure just long enough to reach her car, where she finally broke down and sobbed.

XxX

Two weeks. That's how long Freddie stayed in the hospital before he was able to go home. And after that he stayed in his room another week, avoiding everyone and everything. He didn't want anyone to see him, unable to do anything for himself. His mother had to help him do everything- from getting dressed to bathing. _Bathing_. He was no better than an infant.

Sam and Carly had come over a few times, but he had turned them away. He didn't want pity. He didn't want anyone to fuss. And all Carly was ever able to do was fuss, even if someone was perfectly fine. He just wanted to be alone.

But he'd be lying if he said it wasn't hard to tell Sam to leave. He had been shocked when she kissed him, but he didn't want to start hoping. She didn't know. He probably would never walk again. She wouldn't want to be with someone like that. He would just hold her back.

His three weeks were up and his mother was forcing him back to school. It was a Monday. He already hated Mondays, but this Monday had to take the cake for awfulness. Going to school in a wheelchair was not his idea of fun.

XxX

"He's coming back today!"

"He's so brave!"

"What a Hero!"

This is what Sam was surrounded by when she got to school. She was surprised at how bitter she felt. _Hero?_ No. Freddie Benson was a coward. A stupid coward that she just had to go and fall in love with.

He kept pushing her away. He knew how she felt, she just knew it, and he was pushing her away. Kind of the opposite of what she had hoped for. But she wouldn't mind so much if he would just talk to her. Say anything. Do anything. Even if it was to tell her that her feelings weren't reciprocated. Instead, he refused to leave his room and didn't allow anyone to see him.

Sam didn't even have the heart to think of him as the dork anymore. She felt that was much too kind.

XxX

Sam walked into Ridgeway, twirling her umbrella as she went. It wasn't raining outside, but the forecast said it might. Ten percent chance. Usually, Sam wouldn't mind getting wet, but she didn't particularly feel like getting sick.

She went over to her locker and twisted the lock. Just as she opened her locker, she heard applause at the end of the hall. The hero must have arrived.

She saw him roll into view, face red. He was trying to get to his locker, but everyone and their mother was trying to have a conversation with him at once.

She didn't really want to help him. She didn't even consciously decide. She just waltzed over to the crowd, brandishing her umbrella and they cleared up relatively quickly.

Freddie looked at her. "Thanks."

Sam threw up her hands in mock astonishment. "He speaks!" was all she said.

"Sam, don't-" The bell cut him off.

The hallway emptied quickly, and they were left alone.

"Don't what?" She asked quietly. Dangerously.

He gave her a pointed look, but otherwise kept silent. When she didn't respond immediately, he began his way to his locker.

Sam had had enough. "You need to stop, Freddie."

He froze. "Stop what?" he asked, finally something of emotion echoing in his voice.

"This little pity party you have going for yourself. Pushing everyone away is not going to fix anything." She spat with all the resentment she'd felt in the past three weeks.

He whipped around faster that she would have thought possible, a look of unimaginable rage and pain plastered across his face. "You don't know anything Sam. It's better like this."

Tears were welling up in here eyes again. "It will _never _be better like this. Why can't things just go back to how they were before? You're fine."

His face was growing red. "You think _THIS _is fine?" he gestured to his chair and legs vaguely. "I will never be fine again, Samantha." He slowly began rolling toward her. "Do you want to know why? Because I'll never be out of this goddamned chair. Ninety percent of people with injuries like mine never regain any feeling at all."

He was inches from her when she responded. "That still leaves ten percent." She whispered.

"Who's to say I'm part of that. It's not likely. Might as well accept my fate as quickly as possible. I'm just going to get in yours and Carly's way. Like I said before. It's better like this."

She slapped him as hard as she could. "I can't believe you. How dare you think Carly and I would care whether or not you could walk. And you wanna know something else? The weather man said there was a 10% chance of rain today. I brought my umbrella. Have a little faith." With that, she dropped her umbrella in his lap and walked away.

XxX

Freddie was in his room that evening when he heard it. Thunder. He looked out his window. _I'll be damned_, he thought in astonishment. It was raining. He glanced at his desk, and the umbrella sitting on it.

Something like hope was slowly igniting in his veins and he looked down to his feet.

Concentrate. Small beads of sweat were beginning to form on his forehead but he couldn't give up, not yet.

Then it happened. It was so small, he almost missed it. His biggest toe flinched.

Fin.

**A/N: What did you think? Spare no criticism; I want to hear it all. **

**By the way, this little oneshot was inspired by an episode of CSI:NY. The one where the cute/scruffy one who had a baby with that one chick gets shot and put in a wheelchair. She says something similar to what Sam says to Freddie about the rain. If I find a clip, I'll link to it on my profile. Look for it. I might find it before I post. (EDIT: I found a link. It's not great, but it's the best I could do. Follow directions on my profile to see the scene that inspired this oneshot.)**

**Anywhoodles, Review and I'll love you until I die : )**

**-The Ninja**

**P.S. I know that it's probably riddled with errors. But I didn't particularly feel like proofreading 500 times like I usually do. So, if you find one that is terribly distracting, let me know & I'll fix it.  
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